“Hey, man.” Devon drags a towel along the back of his neck and drops to the bench in the locker room.
We’ve just finished a morning skate, I’ve been awake since 3:30 AM, and I’ve slept like shit since Maisy Stratford re-entered my life as a single woman four days ago.
Has it really only been four days?
I squirt a stream of water into my mouth from my water bottle. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to say thanks. For helping out with Josh the other night. It was cool of you to go out of your way for Maisy like that and I appreciate it.”
I narrow my eyes at my teammate. I know he’s dating Maisy’s best friend, Mila, and has developed his own friendship with Maisy. But it wasn’t that long ago that I was having to help him pull his head out of his ass. He’s not exactly Mr. Nice Guy who goes around helping women in need or looking out for anyone other than himself. And Mila.
And I guess, now Maisy.
“She really liked the new rug and stuff,” Devon continues, missing my glare. “Mila says she hasn’t had an easy year so…”
“So?” I flatten my expression.
Devon sighs and grips the back of his neck. “Just, don’t lead her on, okay? It was cool of you—”
My hand clutches his practice jersey before he finishes that thought. “I don’t need you to school me in how to treat women, hotshot.” I call his bullshit out. “And certainly not women like Maisy.”
Surprisingly, Hardt doesn’t back down. Instead, he stands taller, his body locking down, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck’s that mean? Women like Maisy?”
“Good women,” I growl. “Too fucking good.” I give his jersey one final twist before I release him.
I lift an eyebrow, waiting for his reaction. No doubt, it will be a temper tantrum.
Instead, he laughs. He fucking cackles.
A few of the guys give us weird looks, but other than Barnes, who mutters some shit under his breath, the locker room clears out.
A month ago, if I pulled that shit with Devon, he would have decked me in the face. Now, he’s staring at me like he knows a secret, something I don’t, and he’s fucking laughing.
I swear and stand, yanking open my locker door and pulling out a clean T-shirt.
“You like her,” Devon states.
I turn to glare at him. “Of course, I like her. Who doesn’t like Maisy?”
Devon shakes his head, rolling his lips together to conceal his laughter. “It’s more than that. You really like her.”
I swear again and sit back down.
Devon clasps my shoulder before thumping me once on the back. “I’m glad. She deserves to be with a decent man.”
It’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me but—“It’s not like that. We’re not together.”
“Yet.” Devon stands and rummages in his locker.
“Devon, her boyfriend broke up with her on Monday. I’m not looking to be a, a…” Rebound. I can’t even say the word because of the sour taste it will leave in my mouth. Jesus, the thought is bad enough.
If Maisy Stratford, with her sweet smile and sparkling eyes, ever looked at me as a rebound, I couldn’t stand it. She’s the first woman who’s inspired any reaction, any true feeling, in years and a dismissal by her would be more than rejection. It would devastate me.
“You’re not her rebound,” Devon clarifies. I wince at the word. “She and Josh have been over for a long time. This week just made it official.” He turns and crosses his arms over his chest, his expression filled with disgust. “Did you see him with that girl?”
Anger burns through my veins at the memory. “He’s such a sad suck,” I spit out. When we caught up with Josh, he was crashing at the address Mila texted Devon. His friend Steve wasn’t around, but his tongue was shoved so far down a random girl’s throat, I’m surprised she didn’t vomit in his mouth. My chest ached when I realized Maisy’s hunch was correct. Josh is a cheater.
It was a nauseating display to witness, but it only got worse from there. “I thought he was going to piss himself,” Devon recalls, smirking. “What a chump.”
Upon seeing Devon and me, the little prick bolted from the room, barricading himself in Steve’s bathroom and leaving his new plaything to stare up at us with wide eyes.
We’re just here for some stuff, Devon told her pleasantly.
She shrugged, grabbed her purse, and took off. Smart girl.
Then, Devon and I had loaded up Maisy’s belongings. I swore at Josh up and down when Devon got a text from Mila about the fucking goldfish, and we left.
Josh never came out of the bathroom. I’m not sure if his cowardice eased some of my anger or escalated it. On one hand, I’m certain Maisy will never take him back. On the other, he got off too damn easy.
“How’s she doing?” I ask, pulling off my jersey.
Devon shrugs. “She’s okay. I think the new job and having a routine have helped. Mila spent the night at Maisy’s last night. Their friendship is rock solid. I wish I had someone I could count on like that. Besides Mila.”
“Hm,” I grunt, knowing exactly what he means. Sure, I have my brother, Asher. But he’s usually spearfishing or skydiving, too busy chasing a thrill, to deal with my mundane bullshit. However, if I really need him, he’ll drop everything to show up for Lola and me.
I’ve been on a few hockey teams during my long career, but I’ve never had that connection. A person I can regularly count on for the day-to-day shit.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I have Lola. But she’s my kid and as close as we are, there are obviously things I can’t rely on her for.
Damn. Maybe Lola and Asher are right. I have been on my own too long. I do need to try harder to make friends. To seek fucking happiness.
“Just, keep an eye on her.” I stand and close my locker door.
Devon snorts. “Yeah. You too.” He gives me a pointed look that I ignore.
Making my way out of the locker room, I nearly collide with one of the wingers, River Patton. The guy who can’t check his damn anger and nearly knocked Maisy over her first day of work.
“You.” I point at him.
He scowls but stops and looks at me.
“Apologize to Maisy Stratford. Show her, and every woman, and man,” I tack on for good measure, “working for this team some goddamn respect. You hear me?”
River’s face is stone, his eyes flat. He rolls his lips together and I wait for him to unleash some of his pent-up anger my way. I’ve witnessed a handful of his meltdowns over the summer, and they increased my dislike of the kid. River surprises me though; he nods.
“Good.” I walk away. I thought putting the kid in his place would feel better than it does. I’m still annoyed. Keyed up.
When I pass by the front office, I pause, glancing through the large windows.
Maisy’s sitting at a desk inside, casually chatting with Betty. Her hair is pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck, a few strands escaping and framing her face. Her lips are painted a sweet pink. She’s wearing another sundress, this one green with ruffles at the sleeves.
She’s beautiful. Stunning. Smart and sophisticated.
Maisy isn’t a woman I can try casual with. She deserves the best, my best. But casual is all I know how to do. How pathetic is that? At thirty-six-years old, I don’t know the first thing about dating. I don’t know the first thing about being in a committed, romantic relationship.
As if she feels me staring, she turns. Our eyes meet and I note the surprise in her gaze. She pats at her hair nervously, her tongue swiping a path over her lower lip.
The visual, as simple and innocent as it is, affects me. I practically press my nose against the damn glass.
But I can’t look away. I don’t want to.
I want to give Maisy my best, all of me. Even the parts I forgot exist.
But can I risk it? Can I open myself up to a woman whose entire life is in upheaval?
She jumps, startled, as someone calls her name.
As she turns in the direction of the door, my eyes follow.
Fucking River Patton. He either just cock blocked me or saved me and both options annoy me.
I back away from the window as River talks to Maisy.
I need to get a grip. I need to check my desire for this woman and approach her, this, the right way. Slowly, thoughtfully, carefully.
Maisy’s been hurt too much in the past for me to blaze into her life when it’s already been flipped upside down.
And I don’t know how to navigate all the feelings she inspires inside me.
With her, I need to take my time. I need to think things through. It has to be careful and measured.
Basically, I need to proceed with caution. For both of us.